Monsoon
by Crazy-McWritesalot
Summary: Ever wondered what became of O'Brien? Darkfic, slight femslash, set between s05x03 and s05x04... I guess...
1. Chapter 1

**Hi y'all! So, this is just something that was on my mind when I saw Shrimpie come back from India... I hope you'll like it... Don't forget to leave a comment, that's highly appreciated :)** **Cheers**

Her eyes darted to the corner of the room. She couldn't tear her eyes away from Shrimpie, following his every movement, trying to read anything that could interest her in the way he was quietly sipping his brandy.  
"He will be fine you know, don't be so worried, I bet he is only hiding his happiness... Imagine how it must feel to be rid of Susan! Oh joy!"  
Cora looked at Violet, aware that the dowager was using her to voice her own concerns. She shook her head, smiling. Not being the object of her mother-in-law's sharpness was enjoyable.  
She felt guilty. She knew everyone in the room was worried about her marriage that seemed to be withering a little more everyday. On the other side of the room, Robert was also scrutinizing his cousin, and Cora could see clearly what was playing on his mind- He was wondering what consequences Susan's divorce would have on his own couple. The truth is, Cora had something else on her mind. She hadn't thought about that in a few months, but seeing Shrimpie in her living room brought back the grief, the bitterness, the anger she had once felt. She had to know.

The evening was coming to an end. Shrimpie was still tired from his long way back from India, and when he excused himself for the night, Cora decided it was time to make her move. She rose from the couch, pretending she was exhausted, and followed her cousin out in the hall, feeling more than seeing her husband's eyes on her back. She knew he wondered if she was going to ask Shrimpie about his divorce. A pang of guilt seized her thinking he was far from the truth.  
"Hugh?" Cora's voice echoed in the empty hall, making her shiver. It was tainted with desperation, a rare thing for her.

Her cousin stopped dead in his tracks and turned to face her. She did her best to hide her feelings, knowing she shouldn't look so hurt.  
"Cora? What is it?" Shrimpie asked, coming towards her, concern showing all over his face.

She fumbled for words. It was a real mistake, but she had to know. How could she broach the subject?

"Is it about Robert?" He said, lowering his voice to a mere whisper.  
She shook her head. No, it wasn't, and that made it even more difficult.  
"No... I was only wondering..." She began. Her voice broke and she breathed in deeply.  
"Do tell me, my dear, I pray tell."  
His concerned look helped a bit, and she decided she had to tell him at once what the matter was.  
"It is certainly foolish of me but, I've been wondering how Miss O'Brien was doing."

She felt slightly better now that those three syllables were out, as if a burden in her chest had gone with the words, but Shrympie's frown was of ill omen, as if he didn't know who she was referring to. Than, after a few seconds, some feelings invaded his face, and Cora did her best to try and interpret this look. She failed miserably.  
"Susan's maid?" He asked.  
Cora's heart sank and she winced. The pain of the betrayal was still vivid in her memory, and she had spent quite a lot of time imagining her devoted maid combing Susan's hair. For some reason, she found the thought disgusting. She nodded, and Hugh looked suddenly grief-stricken.  
"I'm sorry Cora... I thought you knew."  
His slowness was torture to Cora- what did he mean by this enigmatic sentence? She felt as if she was about to burst out crying out of frustration.

"She passed away a year after we settled in India." He finished, obviously sorry for his cousin.

Cora felt her blood hammering at her temples. She shivered. It didn't seem possible. O'Brien? _Her_ O'Brien? Gone for ever? That was a huge misunderstanding.  
"How... How?" She wasn't able to make a proper sentence, and her legs threatened to give way. Hugh took her by the shoulders, seeing her face turning even paler than it already was.

"I don't think you need to know that my dear." He said, trying to soothe her.  
"But I do!" She argued, her voice filled with apprehension, betraying the fact that maybe he was right, she'd better not know.  
"She decided to leave this world, she... poisoned herself. I'm so sorry Cora. I've never really liked that woman, but she was a good maid. It came as a shock."

Cora did her best to try and hide her tears. She couldn't be seen crying over her lady's maid, not even hers anymore...  
"Why would she do that?!" She choked.  
Hugh shook his head.  
"I'm afraid we'll never know. She didn't leave a note, and we had no idea." He said kindly. "Sometimes, we have to accept that we don't know people as well as we think."

She had left without explaining herself, sneaking off into the night, for the second time... And for the second time, Cora felt betrayed. Yes she had been angry at O'Brien for not telling her she was leaving Downton, but she could have written to her and the lady would have done anything to help her. Sure she would have known that, no? The maid had been so devoted, so good to her...  
Cora felt tears coming up to her eyes, and she swiftly evaded Shrimpie's comforting touch.  
"I'm sorry, I... overreacted. She was very good to me." She explained before making her way to the stairs.  
"It's alright Cora. Goodnight."  
She felt his gaze on her, and had to keep her tears to herself until she reached her room. Baxter was already there and she felt her throat clinch. She would have to hide her tears for a moment more. Not that she wasn't used to hide her feelings, but for once, she only wanted to go to bed, snuggle into her covers, and cry herself to sleep. She let Baxter undo her hair, and she caught herself closing her eyes, imagining O'Brien's hands running through her locks. It soothed her a bit, until Baxter broke the silence.  
"Are you alright milady?"  
She opened her eyes and felt nauseous. O'Brien was dead now, and she would never feel her fingers gently caressing her scalp, undressing her with expert moves... Making her feel beautiful, and loved.  
"Don't worry, I'm perfectly fine"

Baxter undressed her and put her to bed in a few minutes. Eventually, she was able to let her grief invade her. Her tears rolled freely on her thin cheeks and her pale frame shook violently with the pain of yet another dead body. She curled herself in a living ball and cried for a long time. She could remember every one of their moments together. She remembered her reeling in Scotland. God, she had such a beautiful smile... Maybe because she was plotting leaving to India as Susan's maid... Cora moaned. She should never have let her go, and she would still be here, by her side, being the comforting presence she had always been, thoughtful and soothing. She yearned for her touch ghosting on her scalp, her shoulders, her spin... Loneliness came back in a flash. Her husband was distant, her youngest daughter, her most precious treasure, had died, and now, her devoted O'Brien, Sarah, had committed suicide. Cora was alone in this world, she was the pillar of the abbey, and yet, no one was paying attention to her as a sensitive human being.  
She didn't hear the door open itself, but she felt Robert lie down beside her. What brought her out of her lethargy was his hesitation. She could hear his thoughts. She had woken up many times in the middle of the night, feeling he was awake beside her, rummaging through his thoughts. He certainly saw her shoulders shake as she soon felt his hand take hers, hesitantly, as if afraid she would refuse this simple proof of affection. For a moment, he said nothing. He just held her hand and caressed it.  
"We'll be fine Cora... I promise."  
She couldn't help it, a sigh came out of her lips. She felt guilty again. She was not crying for her marriage, she was crying for the maid who had betrayed her... She was mourning. Crying her heart out.

Why was she so emotional? Why?  
She stopped thinking and let herself slumber into a dark sleep. Sarah was holding her hand, soothing her as she had done when she had recovered from the Spanish flu. And a tempest of tears rocked her to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

The monsoon. It was the monsoon. That rain that seemed as it would never end, sweeping everything on its way, everything, except memories, guilt, and desire. The maid closed the window, clasping it a little too harshly. That weather unnerved her. Every move left her covered with a thin layer of sticky sweat. The atmosphere was heavy, and she hadn't seen the sun even once in the past two weeks. Who could complain about the English weather when India suffered from this climatic shock every single year?  
Sarah let herself fall on her mattress and groaned. Her back was hurting like hell. The springs of the mattress tortured her, and she spent the nights tossing and turning, looking for a position that wouldn't make her feel as if she had been trampled by horses in a steeple-chase in the morning.  
The monsoon, and the mattress. That was how Sarah O'Brien justified her bad mood. Of course, no one could testify to seeing her smile, be it in India or in England, let alone in Ireland.

But this time, it was the monsoon... And the mattress.

She let her tears roll freely on her face. She had learnt that keeping the tears inside caused a headache, and no one was there to ask silly questions. No, only the monsoon would witness her tears, mixed with the rain, with the wet atmosphere, with guilt.  
Because Sarah was able to have feelings. She didn't dare to admit that to herself, but the truth was that her heart, hard as a rock, was covered with scars. The deepest one was still open, and she was bleeding. She had got away, to forget, no, to punish herself by leaving the house in which she had learnt to love a simple, cosy life.  
She missed her life in Downton. Lady Grantham had always been kind to her, she had been the closest thing to a friend. In twenty years, they had got to know each other. Sarah had seen Cora gain confidence. At the beginning, she had seen her cry, worried about not being able to fit in her new country. She had missed America, and her mother-in-law was tyranising her. Sarah had helped her, teaching her whatever she knew about the etiquette.  
This weakness of the first months had created a bond between the two women. O'Brien didn't like anyone, that was a general rule about her... But she had come to like Cora, to know every detail about her. And Lady Grantham had accepted her as she was- manipulative, cold, calculated, often mischievous, but never towards her...  
She had never tried to learn more about Sarah's past, other than what little she had told her willingly-very few-but somehow, she had understood that many scars had shaped her. Her work was flawless, that was all she cared about.  
Sarah couldn't help but cry. She had dared doubt her mistress' intentions, and she had betrayed her, twice. She didn't deserve to go on living by her side after what she had done. She didn't deserve such a sweet life. She didn't deserve to wake up in the morning to bring the tray to Cora's room. She didn't deserve to draw the curtains to see the sun play hide and seek on the pale skin of her sleepy face. She didn't deserve to slightly brush the tip of her fingers on her shoulders when she was helping her dress and undress... The slight thankful smile she gave her when she combed her smooth curls... It had been too much to swallow.

_'You're always so good to me O'Brien, so good.'_

No, she hadn't been. She had killed her heir. A petty move she bitterly regretted every single day.  
But India didn't help. It was like hell. The other servants still called her 'Miss Grantham', to remind her that she had stolen another's job by abandoning Lady Grantham. They didn't like her, and they had noticed the hurt showing on her face whenever they would call her 'Miss Grantham'. They liked to torture her that way.  
It was all true. She was Cora's. She didn't feel happy in India, so far from home, so far from Cora's warm smile and pure heart. But she couldn't return. She had crossed a line.  
Her whole body was shaking now, she could swear she had a bad fever, and her eyes darted to the glass on her bedside table. Empty. As empty as her, only a shell, and nothing left of her. She had left her soul in Yorkshire, if she had ever had one.

Sarah O'Brien closed her eyes and listened to the pouring rain, to the drops slashing against the window pane, to her tears dying on her pillow.

For a split second, shaking violently, her back arching, she was holding her hand, feeling her slender fingers intertwined with hers. Her name, she wanted to here her dearest, sweetest name, but she had no strength left to pronounce this magical word, she was exhausted, and a mere 'O' died on her lips, lost in the monsoon.


End file.
